


A touch of the green-eyed monster

by Trojie



Category: RocknRolla (2008)
Genre: Cheating, Crimes & Criminals, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-03
Updated: 2011-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-18 22:55:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/194208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One Two isn't usually prone to jealousy, but when Bob brings the occasional man back to the Speeler, he can't help some of his reactions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A touch of the green-eyed monster

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pushdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushdragon/gifts).



> Written for Pushdragon as a thank-you for their generous donation to Help_NZ. Beta-read by Ineptshieldmaid.

One Two has never thought of himself as being a jealous man. Loyal, yeah. And maybe a bit territorial, but neither of those is a bad thing. Jealousy is. Jealousy is ugly and petty and nasty, and like most men whose moral compasses are maybe a bit off true north, One Two is kind of particular about the lines he does and does not cross, and this has always been one of them. He doesn't get jealous.

And then one day Bob walks into the Speeler with another bloke behind him, and they carefully don't touch each other, and the new bloke gets introduced as Dave, Bob's mate (although the name 'Dave' sits on him about as well as the shirt he's wearing, which One Two knows bloody well is one of Bob's) and he _knows_ what's between them.

And he shouldn't, but One Two hates 'Dave' on sight.

'Oh-ho,' says Mumbles cryptically as they walk in. And when they walk out he elbows One Two and says, 'Our Bob's got taste - I'd wager that bit of crumpet's worth a penny or two,' and One Two forces himself to nod and smile and agree, and pretend that somewhere in the back of his head he isn't dumping 'Dave' in the river with a pair of concrete overshoes.

'Dave' hangs around for a while, a few months or so, while One Two seethes. And eventually 'Dave' stops coming round. and One Two breathes a sigh of relief, and thinks that's an end to it, and they can get back to normal now.

But.

The _next_ one's tall and athletic and a bit pretty, name of Stephen. Football player. He tries to get in with One Two on the subject of sport, and because he can see Bob kinda watching them, One Two plays nice. But he hates Stephen too. He hates the way Bob smiles around him, the way Bob'll lay a hand on his shoulder and Stephen'll look back at him, and there's something there, something One Two can't tap into. And Bob isn't ashamed of Stephen the way he seemed to be ashamed of 'Dave', or maybe it's that Stephen doesn't mind being … being out, or whatever, because there's touching. Just friendly, casual, mates-only kinda touching, but One Two knows what it means. Oh yes.

Stephen _doesn't_ stop coming round. And slowly he starts getting in with the rest of them. Fred deals him in on hands of cards, and Mumbles and Cookie play pool with him.

It's making One Two downright uncomfortable, and isn't that just the understatement of the century.

'He's not a member of the fuckin' Wild Bunch,' One Two snarls at Mumbles one afternoon in the back room. 'Since when did you bring any of your girlfriends round the Speeler? Since when did Bob, when he used to have girlfriends? The totty does not hang out with the boys. That still holds even if the totty _is_ a fuckin' boy.'

'Calm down, mate,' says Mumbles, leaning back in his chair. 'S'not like he's comin' along on jobs.'

'Might as well be,' One Two says. 'He hears enough, I guarantee it. And where's he noising it around, I wonder.'

'Christ, you aren't half a paranoid bugger. Bit jealous, maybe?' Mumbles squints and grins. 'I know Bob declared his undyin' for you an' all, mate, but you said no, so he's within his rights to go back on the market if he wants.'

'Fuck you, Mumbles,' says One Two, and heaves himself up from the table. 'You know nothing about it, alright?' He means to storm off, but Mumbles catches him by the shoulder, stops him dead in his tracks.

'Talk to Bob,' he says, in a low voice, his business voice, his 'after all, I am dangerous' voice. 'Or I'll tell him to come talk to you, yeah?'

'Get out of it.'

Mumbles shrugs. One Two walks out, angry with himself. Angry that this shit is coming between him and Mumbles now, too.

***

Bob gives One Two a lift home from the Speeler one night, one night when Stephen couldn't come out for whatever reason, and they're mostly quiet on the journey, the way they tend to be (talking in cars has got them into far too much trouble in the past), until Bob turns a corner, the leather of the steering wheel sliding softly hissing through his hands, and says, 'You don't like Stephen, do you.'

'I like him fine,' One Two says gruffly, and hopes that'll shut this line of enquiry down.

'Nah, don't give me that. You don't like him.'

'Does it matter?'

'Matters to me,' Bob says. 'You're my best mate, man. And he's -'

One Two hears the pause coming and hates it, hates that Bob has a choice of what to call that bastard. 'He's what, Bob? You gonna tell me what he is to you?' he demands.

Bob scowls. 'You fuckin' know what he is to me, you hypocritical prick. And you're the only one who's got a problem with it.' He pulls up next to One Two's house. 'So are you gonna come out and tell me why you have a problem with him, or are you gonna suck it up and stop acting like you're jealous?'

'Fuck off, Bob,' says One Two, which isn't eloquent but kinda sums it up. He gets out of the car, and Bob drives off without another word or so much as a backwards glance, and that just makes One Two angrier. Fuck Bob. Fuck Stephen. Fuck this whole fucking thing. He's not a jealous man.

***

Sometimes jobs go smooth, and sometimes they don't. This is one of that kind, where it falls apart from the start, and to make matters worse, there are guns.

One Two hates it when guns are involved. They make things messy. They make people think maybe they can get away without giving One Two what he's after. Life would be so much easier for everyone if people would just roll over when he told them to. Guns get involved, and suddenly there's violence where there didn't need to be, and that's no good to anyone.

Bob drives like fucking stink to get them out of that, and One Two gets whiplash to add to the bruises and the sick burn of adrenaline and the panic and the desire to put his fucking fist through a wall by the time they lose their pursuit. He has to close his eyes for a second and just breathe, head hard back in the plush of the car's headrest.

'C'mon,' says Bob tersely, opening One Two's door, and grabs at One Two, tries to get him out of the car. One Two didn't even notice him get out of the driver's seat. 'C'mon, you stupid fucker, get out of it,' and he grabs One Two's arm and hauls.

One Two goes because it's that or wrench something, but resentment bubbles and boils inside him and once they get inside the house - _Bob's mum's old house, can't stay long, gotta keep moving_ \- he turns and shoves Bob, shoves him away and shoves him up against the wall, and for all it's away he's shoving him, he can't help but follow, step over the line, til he's got Bob caged under his height and his shadow.

Bob doesn't give an inch, just stares back, chin tip-tilted up just that fraction so that he can look One Two in the eyes. 'Yeah?' he asks, voice flat and low and rough. His voice is always rough. Too many fags and too much cheap booze'll do that to you if you start as young as Bob did. 'Mumbles'll be here in half an hour to get us, remember?'

He licks his lips, unconscious-like. One Two tracks it, remembers across the pool table last week how Stephen'd knocked back the dregs of his lager, and looked at Bob with one eyebrow up a little bit, and Bob'd licked his lips, and One Two had read all about how Stephen wanted Bob to go home with him, and how much Bob wanted to drag him there in that little exchange.

One Two realises he's a jealous man at the same time he realises he's hard in his jeans at the sight of Bob's mouth all wet, and he realises he's a _bad_ man when he bulls in even closer and closes his grip around Bob's hips, yanking them together.

'I've got a boyfriend,' Bob says quietly, without looking away and without hesitating, this time, over the word boyfriend. He's hard too, and he doesn't try to move, even when One Two shoves his knee in between Bob's thighs.

'I don't give a fuck, as long as you want this,' One Two snarls. 'Just tell me, Bob. Tell me yes or no.'

'You told me no, a year or so back,' Bob points out. 'You changed your mind?'

'Yes or no?'

'I've got a boyfriend,' Bob says again, but he's squirming down a little even if he doesn't realise he's doing it.

'That's not an answer.'

'You're not afraid of him?'

'Of a fuckin' poof who takes it up the arse? No.'

Bob tilts his head, challenging. 'Then I'm not gonna tell you no.'

That's enough for One Two, and he slams his hands either side of Bob's head and crushes himself down to kiss Bob. It's an attack, and they both know it - Bob has to fight for movement, fight for his air, and fight he does. One Two doesn't care, and doesn't let him up, just bites in to feel that mouth up against his.

Bob pulls him away by his hair with one hand, stares him in the eyes as he uses the other hand to hitch and haul himself further up One Two's leg until he's riding One Two's thigh like it's a racehorse. 'Does he do this for you?' One Two can't help but ask, nasty fuckery bleeding into his voice. 'Get you all hot like I can?'

'He's good to me,' growls Bob. 'He's straight-up, doesn't mess me about. And fuck, One Two, you should see how he takes it, he's gorgeous, he fuckin' _begs_ for me, mate.'

One Two gets his hands around Bob's arse and drags him in closer, til they're pushed together with only denim between their erections. 'I bet you're good to him too, eh Bob, aren't you,' One Two says. 'I bet you treat him just like you treated all your girls, like you were good to them. Took care of them. But you don't really want that, do you.' God, but he feels vicious, and it feels good. Some fucker pulled a gun on him not two hours ago, and fight or flight bites like a bitch. 'Nah, you want me, you want your bit o' the rough life in the bedroom like you've got it everywhere else, don't you, Bob.'

'You do nothing but fuck people around,' grunts Bob. 'You're a rubbish fuckin' boyfriend, I've had it straight from the horse's mouth.Your girls talk to me, mate.'

'Oh, but you don't want a _boyfriend_ ,' One Two snarls. 'You bring your flash bit of totty round the Speeler, you introduce him all good, you get him in the door, it's cos you don't want anythin' but what you get with us, do you Bob. You wanna get your end away and you wanna be in the Wild Bunch, and you don't want anything else. I know you, Bob. I know you're all work. All work and trousers.' One Two's getting close, straining and panting, twisting closer, the friction and the heat and Bob's glare, all intense grey like wet metal, and the bitemark on his lip and the stubble-burn all red … just colour and sensation in front of One Two's eyes, overstimulating.

'You offerin' then?' Bob gasps, and One Two shudders. 'Gonna keep me satisfied, One Two? I take a lot of satisfyin', mate. Maybe Stephen isn't enough any more, maybe that's why I said yes, yeah? Maybe I need you both -'

One Two slams his handspan over Bob's throat. 'You _don't_ need him any more,' he spits, and Bob's throat works, he strains for breath for a second, and then chokes, curls in a little, and One Two almost thinks he's - almost thinks he's gone too far and then realises what those rolled-back eyes and that posture and that heaving, scrabbling breathing means, and he lets go, watches Bob's face flood with colour even as he sags just a little from having come, and One Two shoves up again and again and again, wanting to mark Bob all over with friction like that's his calling card.

He comes almost by accident, too wrapped up in what he's done to Bob, and when he's done messing in his pants like a teenager he bears down again, braced over Bob and unable to let go.

'Get off,' Bob mutters after a second. 'Get _off_.'

'Mm?'

'Get the fuck off me, you stupid bastard,' Bob says, pushing. 'You don't hear that?'

'Hear what?' One Two asks, shoving off the wall and letting Bob slide back to the flat of his feet from where he'd been all up on his toes.

' _That_ ,' Bob says just as Mumbles' car pulls up.

***

Stephen doesn't come to the Speeler again. After a couple of nights, One Two figures he's not coming back at all. And Bob's got that slouch and prowl to him he always used to get after he'd done with a bird. That nasty jealousy's burnt into possessiveness, and One Two's _glad_.

'You told him, then,' One Two says. They're leaning on the wall, cues in hand, waiting for Cookie to take a shot at the pool table. He's eyeing the six in the corner pocket.

'I don't play fast and loose with people,' Bob mutters. 'He did right by me. Thanks to you, I didn't do so right by him, but I stopped that going any further, at least.'

'So you're done with him, then?'

'Not that it's any of your business.' Bob pushes himself forward as Cookie misses his shot. He sinks three - the one, the seven, the eleven - while One Two watches, and then saunters back, the set of his shoulders a bit too easy.

'You'd better be done with him,' One Two says into Bob's ear. Bob's eyelids flutter like he's refusing to let his eyes close. 'I'm a jealous man.'

He likes the way the words sound, and he likes the way Bob reacts, even if this is something he said he'd never do, never be. Let's face it, where Bob's concerned, all of One Two's lines are already done for.


End file.
